


No Time Left, No Control, Low Payroll

by bye_bye_firefly



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Arguing, Destruction, Drama, Explosives, Fights, Fire, I Tried, I'm Bad At Tagging, Internal Conflict, Mentioned Dave | Technoblade, Mentioned Dream, Mentioned Eret - Freeform, Mentioned Fundy, Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, One Shot, Tags Are Hard, Villain Wilbur Soot, alt title: additional memory, alt title: everybody wants to be famous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26940253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bye_bye_firefly/pseuds/bye_bye_firefly
Summary: Wilbur was too reckless, Tommy wasn't the president, and Quackity still had thefattestass in the whole cabinet. Well, one event led to another and suddenly, he found himself standing a metre away from Schlatt, holding a lighter, and threatening him with the eradication of Manberg.Well, not threatening. More like promising. Like a "Hey, I'm gonna do this!" type of thing.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 163





	No Time Left, No Control, Low Payroll

**Author's Note:**

> please thank and follow @PANP4S for this idea on twitter!!! she tweeted out this juicy content and i had to write it so consider this a gift to her!

Wilbur sat on the tower near the empty podium, getting everything set up for the big finale. He took inspiration from Dream and kept one piece of dynamite, flicking the lighter open and closed as he sat on the edge of the building. His tired eyes, glazed over in a three-day-long stupor, glanced around the perimeter of his lost country. Well, no longer his. About to be no one's. He adjusted his gloves, wiped his hands over his face, and let his sweaty palms drift up to his hair and scratch at his scalp furiously.

There had to be a word for this kind of situation. That feeling of everything about to go tits up because of something you've done. Purposefully causing havoc but for a good cause. Moral but maligned. This was eternity. He could sit here for as long as he wanted, watching the podium, flicking his lighter open, closed, open, closed, never moving, never changing. It could stay like this forever if that was what he really wanted. For the day to stand still, yes, that would be wonderful. Watching nothing, like static on the TV. An empty channel.

"Wilbur, you can't do this."

Tommy wouldn't allow him his infinity. Quietly, "I can; you won't let me."

He came closer, reaching for Wilbur with a shaky, small hand. "Will, I need you to get off here. Come back to Pogtopia. You don't have to do this."

"I do, though." Tommy rested his hand on his shoulder, but Wilbur quickly yanked it away from him, nearly tumbling off the tower as he turned to face him. "You cannot stop me!"

"It's the only choice I have!"

"And you think this isn't my only choice?!"

"Because it isn't!"

Wilbur quickly flicked the lighter on and began to light the dynamite in his hand, but Tommy grabbed the flame with both hands and jerked him off the ledge and back onto the floor. Wilbur fought against him, trying to force him off, but it was no use; Tommy had a death grip on his lighter. There was no doubt he was burnt, forever scarred by this moment, not unlike his memory. In the middle of the fight, Wilbur briefly wondered if maybe, just maybe, this was how it always ended for corrupt leaders like him: battle scars and betrayals.

Tommy took one hand off the lighter and took the dynamite out of his hand, throwing it to the side. Wilbur watched helplessly as it travelled across the floor, sliding until it made a stop by the black walls of the tower. The objective was no longer get him to stop taking the lighter; it was to get the dynamite. Wilbur let go of the lighter and started running towards the stick; Tommy saw what he was doing and quickly tackled him to the side; suddenly, Wilbur found himself laying on the edge just above the ladder, his beanie falling from the top of the tower to the ground.

"You have to stop!"

"Get off me!"

"Wilbur, there is something inside of you that _knows_ this isn't right! You're stressed, you're tired- _Please,_ Will!"

What was he talking about? "Tommy, I'm lighting this place and watching it burn to the ground!"

"Is this the story you want to be told? Who's going to tell your story?!"

"I don't care about my story!"

"Uh, gentlemen, have I run into something here?"

The two men turned their heads toward the ground where the voice came from and standing there, Schlatt, Quackity, and Fundy stared up at them with inquisitive eyes. Seeing Fundy is what made Wilbur's world go haywire and for a few moments, he was left to eternity. It was like his eyes were covered in a thick, grainy film and his ears were filled with incomprehensible noises. They sounded like words, but without a way to understand them, he was left floating. It was like he was standing still, yet moving at the same time.

It was blissful.

Quackity had confiscated the lighter and dynamite as Schlatt had ordered him and Fundy, after a lot of struggling, took Wilbur and Tommy into custody. Wilbur was going quietly, something he didn't understand. Wilbur didn't fight; it was _Tommy_ who took some convincing. All they had to say was that if they weren't both taken into custody, then Wilbur would probably blow the place up. He shut up and moved slowly, looking around as if there would be a door to leave through. Wilbur's eyes were glazed over and his footing was uneven. When someone would call his name, he wouldn't answer. He just stared.

Creepy as hell! He was not about _that_ at all! Just gave him a really icky feeling. He wanted to talk to Schlatt, maybe get things in order before the festival, but he opted to talk with Tubbo instead of him. Watching him go when there were serious matters to be discussed made him feel...

He huffed and turned on his heel to see Tommy and Wilbur. There was nothing else to do but be the yes-man, which he didn't exactly feel like being right now. Either the yes-man or the fattest ass in the cabinet; that was the way it was. Still, how could he yes-man _this_ guy? He was charismatic- that was how he was charmed by him at first- but at the same time, the things he was doing and the things he said. The lies he told, especially that one about Technoblade. He hummed to himself in thought.

Well, whatever. Every politician lied. There was no shame in it. He could admit that he'd lied to a couple of people before. They were no different; they were part of the same cause. Everything for L'Manberg.

Manberg. He meant Manberg.

He opened the door and looked at the two in the cell. They sat across from each other, Wilbur motionless and his eyes wide open while Tommy had his fingers tangled in the bars. He had given up a little while ago on yelling because he knew there was no way out of the cage. Wilbur certainly wasn't going to help him. Quackity just did his best to keep his eyes away from Wilbur so he didn't end up becoming so uncomfortable that he left. Tommy glared at him and got to his feet once he noticed him, immediately running his mouth.

"You are a bastard, Quackity. An absolute bastard."

"It's in the job description," he said. "Listen, I'm just here to understand why you did what you did."

"It's not what _I_ did. It's what _Will_ did."

"Well, you're on his team." Tommy's gaze faltered when he said that. "Why'd he try to blow up Manberg?"

Tommy thought, his hands slipping down the bars as he did so. His shoulders slumped forward as he fell in on himself and his glare turned to a pained expression. Quackity wanted to ask if he was alright, but he realised it wasn't because of physical pain and more emotional pain. "I can't tell you that." Yet, Tommy was still obstinate. "That's not something for you to know, Big Q." He still addressed him with that honorific. It made Quackity wonder how things came down to this.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling the dynamite slip into his hands as if it was telling him a secret. "Well, Tommy, I need to know, so we either sit here forever or I start cussing you out in Spanish. Those are our two options."

"You wouldn't."

"Me cago en tu madre, Tomás."

"I don't even know what you're saying!"

"Oi, puta, vete a la mierda."

Tommy groaned and fell to the ground, which let Quackity know that this wasn't going to break him. It annoyed him, though, so it almost seemed worth it to continue. He opened his mouth to say more obscenities, but then he decided against it and came closer. Tommy refused to look at him, so for a few moments, they sat in silence. Tommy then broke it by asking, "Why do you want to know? What do you gain by knowing any of this?"

"I'm just curious." That was the truth; there was no need to know the reason why they were arguing or why the place was rigged with explosives. Schlatt had no plan to remove the TNT until after the festival but was telling people who knew about the incident that they had to keep quiet. No one could know about the explosives. Somehow, Quackity knew that more people knew about it than they thought. Probably people on Wilbur's side of things.

Tommy looked at Wilbur, his blank stare never changing or moving. He was almost catatonic. It was really impressive if Tommy was going to say something about it. He wasn't, but he _was_ thinking about it. He didn't know what was up with him, but it was either really impressive or really worrying. Maybe it was both. No, they didn't really fit together. More worrying than impressive when he thought about it for a second time. "I don't know why he tried," Tommy admitted.

"So, you were just bluffing when you said that you couldn't tell me?"

"Yeah."

Goddammit, Tommy. "Then why didn't you say that?"

"I don't know."

"What _do_ you know?"

"I'm not up for this talk, Big Q."

Wilbur tilted his head up to stare at Quackity abruptly, making him jump and look away. He stood up and came to the bars to study Quackity for a few moments before saying, "I know you don't trust him."

"Huh?" Quackity looked him up and down, then turned his eyes to Tommy, then back at Wilbur. This made him extremely uncomfortable.

"You don't trust Schlatt anymore."

"Uh-"

"You don't trust him at all. I don't know what he's said, but I know who he is, so I can get the gist of it. He's lied a few times. He's tricked you and the people near you, right? You're just as scared as Tommy, right? I rigged the place with TNT. You know that already, don't you? Just blow the place up. Skip the festival, blow it all up."

Tommy quickly stood up and shook his head vigorously. "Don't listen to him-"

 _"Tommy, shut up._ Quackity, I know there are so many options to take and this is one of the best ones. Fulfil my wishes, Quackity. This is the one thing I wanted."

Even as his voice picked up in pace, his tone never shifted and his voice was entirely blank. Tommy and Wilbur were both shouting different options he could take at him, making him back away and into the wall out of fear. The room was filled with two voices, but it seemed like _too many._ How was that so? He kept looking at the two, his gaze shifting between them.

Wilbur suddenly beat his fists against the bars and screamed, _"Take the TNT and fucking light it!"_

The door opened and in came Schlatt, Quackity staring at the two men with wide eyes. His shoulders had risen to his ears and his chest was barely moving because of how little he was breathing. It was like he was being suffocated, something Schlatt instantly took notice of. "Oh, come on, Quackity. These two shook you up?" He closed the door behind him and came to the bars with a smile on his face. "Wilbur Soot scared you? Him?" He shook his head as Wilbur and he maintained stares filled with scorn for each other.

"Sch-Schlatt-"

"Get out of here. I have business to take care of."

Quackity, not wanting to disobey an order, opened the door and began to leave. Wilbur pushed Tommy out of the way, nearly causing him to fall over, just to yell at Quackity, "You know what you want to do!" By the end of the sentence, Quackity had closed the door and started walking out of the building. He had to check on Tubbo, see how everything was going when it came to the festival. Whatever Schlatt was doing in there, whatever he was saying, he didn't care about it anymore. Schlatt could do anything he wanted to.

But maybe that was the problem. No one was good for L'Manberg.

Manberg.

He stopped at the exit, his hand lingering on the knob for a few seconds more than he should have allowed. In those few seconds, he considered his options and closed his eyes. Maybe Wilbur was right. He wouldn't try to blow up his own country unless he thought he had no other choice to, which was what he was yelling about on top of the tower. His thought process had to be something about how he and no one else deserved this place. He'd lost all sense of worth for the land. He was losing grip on this.

It didn't stop Quackity from walking to the base of the tower near the podium, dynamite hidden in his pocket. It took a little bit, but eventually, people gathered from around the area. He took the lighter out of his pocket and flicked it open and closed a few time before looking at the stick. He looked around the area, the people's shining smiles and Tubbo's shaky hands as he addressed the crowd to reflect on the past of L'Manberg. He presented documents to show them how much the country had grown, prosecuted Wilbur for the things he had done and praised Schlatt for his efforts.

He flicked the lighter on and watched as the flame illuminated his face in the night the way lanterns couldn't. He took the stick of dynamite and got off the wall, staring at the two objects in his hands. This was it. 

"Quackity," Schlatt's voice came from behind him, "what are you doing?"

Quackity looked back at him and backed away, his eyes wide with shock. "What are _you_ doing?"

"Why are you asking me that? You're holding a stick of dynamite."

He looked at the stick he mentioned and stared at him for a moment before letting his eyes become sharper. The confidence he always had came through as he backed further away from him and threatened to light the stick, watching as Schlatt panicked for a moment. He stepped forward quickly, but when he realised it was only a threat and nothing more, his face relaxed. "I'll do it, Schlatt."

"Go ahead," he said. "See if I care. I'll tell you like I told Wilbur: we're planning on cleaning this place up anyway. Blowing it all up is free labour."

He knew that was a lie. It only worked on Wilbur because he didn't know, but it was a blatant lie to him. That ignited a flame inside of him; to think that he could be lied to so easily was insulting on its own. Between the panicked look on his face from only seconds ago to what he said to him in the past and presently, Quackity had enough. He let his body relax, listening to Tubbo's speech go on behind him. Fundy's cheers, Eret's deafening silence, and Tubbo's nervous giggles. It was already gone.

Schlatt glared, recognising he wasn't going to back down, and said, "Quackity, put the TNT down. That's an order, _effective immediately."_

He shook his head stubbornly.

"Why? There's no reason for you to do any of this. Did they really get into your head that much?"

"Nah," he said plainly as he lit the TNT. "You just went a little too far out of your lane."

Schlatt's eyes widened as he ran toward him, but by then, it was too late. The TNT went off and all of L'Manberg, including the people in it, was wiped from the map. Dream watched it happen from the top of a tower a few miles away, his arms crossed. Technoblade had heard the noise, unsure of what was going on, and stopped planting potatoes to come out from underground to see a bright fire raging in the distance. He sighed and muttered under his breath, "Goddammit, Wilbur..."

The country, which was now just a hole in the ground, burned all night. The midnight sky was alive with fire and ash, making it look like the middle of the day.


End file.
